


Just a Pint

by ghostpajamas



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst, Comedy, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Home Invasion, M/M, Mild Blood, Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Sharing a Bed, Starvation, constant references to weird shit, i'll add more tags as shit happens, o wow look its svlad o clock, ooc dirk bc he grew up. differently, todd is a little too nice rip, you can tell the time by what name i call dirk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-18 06:58:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13676601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostpajamas/pseuds/ghostpajamas
Summary: Dirk Gently has hated every minute of being dead. Right down to the second. He runs away from Blackwing, his home for god knows how long, and promptly starts starving under a bridge in Seattle. After a chance encounter (if breaking into an under-payed bellhop's home counts), His lif- death starts to take a turn.





	1. "chance" encounter

**Author's Note:**

> I have never posted a fic before so bear with me on this.  
> i'll try to post 1 or 2 chapters a week ;0

The night’s silence was broken by a fluttering of dark fabric.  
Cool air stung Dirk’s face as he ran, a tight shirt collar around his neck, scrubbing at his skin.  
Finally escaped, finally out of that den.

The old building behind him was still only a dark shape in the night but he knew every detail in his mind. Each eye that was undoubtedly watching him go made his hair stand up. He anticipated a fight, a chase, but the air was eerily still and it bothered him to no end.

Blackwing would hunt him down but the subjects had no such desires. He felt thankful to their dismissive gaze like, “Oh, there’s Dirk, running away from his life for the last 20 years. His eternal residence, his family. Nothing new.”

The guilt bore down on him but the weight gave momentum which only made him faster and the speed at which he went, it made him feel more alive than in all these years.  
He was never going back.  
.  
.  
He really wanted to go back.  
Dirk pondered the events of his life that brought him where he was today, under a bridge in Seattle, starving and tired and in dire need of a bath. It was around 6 in the afternoon. The sun would set soon and he would wander the town.  
He remembered the day, the exact minute, that his life went from good to horrendous, to please god let me out of here.

A man in a cloak followed Svlad home 3 days before his 13th birthday. He’d grabbed young Svlad by his shoulder a few blocks from his house and pressed a cold rag to his face. He woke up in a basement where he was kept for weeks as more and more people drained his blood and replaced it with their own. His skin grew colder and took on a blue tinge, his heart beat; a slow thud in his chest, and the thought of sunlight made his body ache in instinctive refusal. His teeth fell out one by one, as they were replaced with newer, sharper additions. Svlad's screams seemed to go unheard by anyone above the basement (he assumed at least), because no one came to check on him for days. The dark walls that he couldn’t see the end of before were coming into focus. His eyes were sharper than before and his ears, now in points, could hear the voices in the building above. They laughed at his torment, when he called to them by name.

His occasional screams ended on the 18th day.  
His cheeks felt hollow and there was a deep ache where he knew his stomach was. How long had it been? He missed the food at home. He missed warmth. He was too tired to speak, his throat was too dry to scream. They brought him water some days but what he was wanting was.. different. There was something animalistic in his hunger. Svlad had never experienced this before, at age 13 he had never starved, never craved to tear flesh from bone, never killed an animal, a person. He felt that these facts were changing faster than he could control.

His first kill was memorable, Dirk could always see it when he lay awake in the day, waiting for the sky to fade back to dark. His last day alive was the landmark that his train of thought stopped at. “Don’t take what you can’t lose.” He’d always say, but what was taken from himself was never returned. Karma struck back hard that day. And in such a timely manner!

He never liked Blackwing. Detested it even. But by god, was he fucking hating freedom. He hadn’t eaten a proper meal for 2 weeks. Everyday he had to hide under a bridge from the sun. Dirk wanted to go back. Blackwing always had death in excess and he was missing it like he did his old home. Like his mother and the soup she made when he was sick. It would surely taste like ash in his mouth now.

The fabric of the uniform he was given before was tearing at the cuff and he hadn’t gotten a nice warm bath in that felt like years. Sure the man who turned him (and so many others, god their den was packed so little space so much carnage) was a bad man. But Dirk hadn’t known the joy of a proper childhood in so long it was hard not to miss the joy rarely felt at Blackwing. Any joy at all would be better than this.

The tight black fabric of the uniform Riggins gave them all made all the others a dark shape in the night. Dirk had to admit it, the material had good quality and the uniform made him feel part of a whole. The others in Blackwing were as close to friends as he had. That was over now. Dirk looked around at his bare backdrop, torn plastic sheeting and trash under the bridge with him. The dark surrounding him pulled him out of his deep reverie.

He wandered the town in the dark, staying on high alert and trying to scent the air for and reasonable amount of blood. He’d take a dead man in an alley, someone hurt in an accident, anything to fill the void in his stomach that grew with each block he went down. He walked aimlessly around town, only smelling a drop here and there, some roadkill elsewhere. Animals would sate his hunger but he’d get sick, his sensed would dull and Blackwing would scoop him back up. He knew there would be hell to pay when they found him.  
He stopped his walking on the street corner. In front of him stood a tall apartment building with dull metal letters reading out “Ridgely”.  
Even as a child he had hunches, A force like a hand at the small of his back pushed him to go and do things.. Dirk knew where he had to be somewhere, but this?  
It didn’t make sense.

‘Why here?’ he mused and was met by an answer almost instantly. Funny how that happened.  
His ears picked up on a short yelp from the second floor. The scent of blood came to him soon after. He knew his pupils expand to take over nearly his whole iris as his pace quickened.  
The fire escape was an easy climb but getting in unheard? That would be difficult. It helped that the window frame was without a screen.  
He peered in through the window to take in the terrain of his next victim’s apartment.  
It was pretty barebones, some decor but mostly just a mess, a bed was off to the corner and a small kitchen on the farthest side from him. Nothing of note but the man in the kitchen.

His hair was a washed out brown, cut short around his head. He had stubble along his jaw and a t-shirt for a band Dirk had never heard of. His whole appearance practically screamed “I’m normal! I’m boring! Go ahead drink my blood I don’t mind!” but as he turned his head, just slightly to the side, Dirk was taken aback. This man whose whole existence would probably taste like bland lentils and cardboard, had the most striking blue eyes.

Dirk remembered when his eyes were like that, before he was turned and his eyes made grey. The whites of his eyes changed too, when he hunted they were a painfully bright pink, like candy or cheap plastic. Only after he fed would his eyes change back to blue and white. ‘You are what you eat’ he supposed and it only figured that he’d have to take to get back what was taken. (‘And take, and take and take.’ He noted sourly.)  
He should do what he had to before the bland man saw him.

A direct approach would be the fastest, Dirk decided as he lifted the unlocked window open and climbed right in.  
.  
Todd Brotzman was cooking dinner for himself at 6:45 when he heard his window open. This disturbance to his night came shortly after another, he had cut his hand chopping a carrot.  
The sound was faint but it was enough to startle him from his thoughts as he froze where he stood. Slowly he turned around to find a pale, dark haired man Halfway through his window. His eyes shone bright fuschia under the artificial light.

He was startled by the color but in his state of panic, assumed it was only drugs, another stoner breaking in. He’d forgotten to lock the window that night.  
‘I should put in a complaint.’ he sighed and grabbed a broom. The Boxcutter knife in his pocket was an unplanned coincidence and a fact he only remembered when he couldn’t use it.

“Hey.” Todd said, trying to keep a solid tone, “Listen dude, I don't have any money or drugs, go fuck with Dorian.”  
His intruder didn’t seem to be in a speaking mood as he climbed all the way in and approached Todd, slowly. Dirk was honestly confused by the response he was getting. People were usually just a little bit more..panicky. This..tough guy act really threw off his game.

Todd kept the broom aimed at him. The distance made him feel safer, it made him feel in control.

“I’m warning you man, I’m not against hitting you if you keep walking.” He grit his teeth as he finished talking, waiting for them to stop, hoping they would. ‘Fuck why’re those eyes so red? is he okay?’

Dirk stopped at the end of the broom and Todd lowered it cautiously, unsure what to do now but hoping he’d be okay. He took in the intruder’s appearance during the short lull. His hair was slicked back loosely, it looked almost black but Todd could see a red glint. ‘Fuckin’ gross dude, take a shower.’ His ears came to an odd point and the man’s skin was ashen.

Todd’s worry began to multiply.  
‘Is this dude sick? Fuck could I get sick? ‘Manda won’t have anyone to take care of her and I might get fired shi-’  
His intruder’s eyes narrowed and he made an almost sorrowful expression before he lunged.

He’d attacked while Todd was thinking about his health and looking back, Todd found the irony of the situation overwhelming.  
Todd was too distracted to notice his intruder’s initial movement, but with the other man inches away, his fight or flight instinct kicks in.  
The fight instinct specifically kicked in as Todd Brotzman decked an assumed sickly individual in the jaw.

Todd was too dazed by the pain in his hand for the second attack that came. His intruder had paused yes, but Todd clutched his hand for longer, the hit opening the cut in his hand. The smell of blood, it made Dirk ravenous.  
His intruder, now pinning Todd on the ground with his own weight, held him by the throat.

In any other context Todd might think it was hot but he had several pressing issues that stopped that from being at the forefront of his mind. Dirk leaned down, seemingly for a kiss but veered off course to Todd’s neck.  
In that final second before teeth plunged into Todd’s flesh, he realized what was happening.  
A fucking vampire had broken into his home. He mistook a vampire for a stoner. He berated himself shortly before the pained seared through him. From the man attacking him, he heard a very faint “I'm sorry.”

Todd wished he’d remembered his knife in time.

Todd Brotzman fell asleep on his floor at 6:52 without having eaten dinner.


	2. Svlad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> old files.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're getting into what blackwing was like. In the au its a vampire den and a little less military (and its still run by good ol' scott who doesn't know what he's doin). they still run tests and treat the subjects like rats but there's less guns and more like.. they have to depend on the facility.

PROJECT: Icarus  
NAME: Svlad Cjelli  
BIRTH DATE: 6.019.82  
HAIR:BR EYES:BLU  
BUILD: average height, thin  
BLOOD TYPE: AB-  
KNOWN ABILITIES: unintentional precognition, weak psychokinesis when exerted

 

Notes on the subject: considered a psychic by peers, AB- accept any blood type as a donor giving a higher survival rate for the turning. He shows surprisingly strong force of will, having avoided turning for over a week. He shows physical signs of the process in his ears and skin coloration but exhibits no increase in aggression or bloodlust. His blood type may have an effect on his status.

Additional notes: He has a very weak build and the others are having doubts about his physical ability after turning. His aversion to consuming blood may carry over as well and could be problematic in our goal of finding a suitable subject. His small stature may lead to him being an ineffective hunter but his precognition can be made useful. Further tests are needed.  


[Notes and information will be updated as Project Icarus develops.]

PROJECT: Icarus  
NAME: Svlad Cjelli {Refers to self as Dirk Gently post-mortem}  
BIRTH DATE: 06.19.82 DATE OF DEATH: 07.07.95  
HAIR:BL EYES:GR (change back to blue after feeding)  
BUILD: average height, thin  
BLOOD TYPE: AB-  
KNOWN ABILITIES: unintentional precognition, weak psychokinesis, unable to manipulated other through hypnosis or fly (damaged wings after malnourishment in turning and post-mortem), can pronounce holy words w/out negative effects

 

Notes on the subject: Noticeably weaker than the others and shows a deep aversion to hunting. Goes into an emotional state after each kill despite doing so swiftly and effectively. Seems to exhibit restraint on human victims and only drains them partially (most still die and the remaining blood is taken by others). His inability to fly is in part to to his refusal to hunt unless forced or starving, leaving him malnourished. Still fails to show a heightened sense of bloodlust post-mortem. His psychokinetics are stronger, however, and he’s able to manipulate small objects in a normal state. Animal blood makes him sick and reduces his ablitiies and senses to that of a normal human. Can sustain himself with just water for up to 13 days. Running water affects him negatively as with other subjects. Reflection is faintly visible in silver mirrors. No aluminum backed mirrors are found in the facility except on lower levels but he would likely be able to see his reflection in them. Hasn’t given up on his “human” life despite persistent attempts to deter him. Plans to take him to his gravesite have been delayed to his 18th birthday.

Additional notes: Fears of his ineffective hunting ability were incorrect and he’s proven to be effective. He interacts well with the other subjects but maintains his reserved behavior. He visits Cardenas frequently and is fascinated by the Wilder girl’s abilities. Further testing will have to be done to gauge the extent of his abilities but it's recommended to give him a week in between hunts to recuperate. Project Incubus shouldn’t be allowed near him for extended period of time, they upset him. Their ability to drain his post-hunt emotions are useful but frequent exposure dampens his own ability and interferes with testing.  


[Notes and information will be updated as Project Icarus develops.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is gonna be on dirk's final day as a real human person (rip). after that its back to him and todd


	3. 18th day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the last 2 hours of your life as a person, and the rest of eternity as a monster.

After his first kill. Dirk could never forget the short hours after his first kill.  
20 years from then, and he always craved the sunlight that he could practically taste on his tongue without pain, the tears that stung his eyes when he looked too long, when he thought too long. He wondered if his mother had grieved. If she was still looking or finally given up, he missed her dearly. He'd wondered till he died and persisted after. Dirk knew a vague whisper of the answer in the back of his mind but...he hoped she was still like he remembered. He knew there was a tombstone in his plot with no body underneath. He knew his mother hadn't accepted it all those years ago. At the very least, he hoped.

Riggins had stood at the edge of the den’s shade, watching Svlad lie on the ground in the sweet and warm sunlight for the last time in his life. Not to mention what would be his last time in his existence. In all his years of searching, Scott Riggins had never found a vampire who would survive the sunlight, the holy words, the stake. Svlad could speak the Lord’s name and the holy virgin’s but… He was so frail as it was. Even this early he could see his hunger in the turning days would affect him for years to come.  
Riggin’s wondered why he did this, why he took children and raised them into this. He hadn’t been so young when he turned. His end goal was unclear to himself most days. You want to live the life you’ve taken from them. Find someone who can survive what you can’t and snatch it away. He knew it deep down but vehemently refused to acknowledge it.  
He just turned to sit farther in the shade, to watch and mourn this boy’s final day alive. Once the blood was digested, there would be no more warmth in his life but the crimson fluid they all survived off of. 

Svlad lay on his back, savoring the sunlight on his face, the warmth from the asphalt, and the tickle of grass growing through it.  
“I’ll miss you the most.” he sighed to the sun, even with closed eyes he could see the light. Even with closed eyes he could see his mother’s face and fuck, did he never stop feeling guilty for things he could never control?  
‘The sadness will last forever.’ These words danced behind his closed eyes and he wondered so deeply where they came from.  
He could run away now, he knew, none of the monsters in there could follow. But where would he go? He’d be one soon enough as well.

Two hours passed as he slept under the sunlight, the envy of all those within the den. They all knew how these sunlight hours, they called it, would end. This reminder lessened their envy a little. It made some of them feel bad for little Svlad. They decided to get the cloak ready, the banner, and the “wine”.

Two hours and one minute of sunlight passed before smoke began to rise and his lovely blue eyes, a murky grey now, shot open and he screamed. The shock of the pain made his slow heart thud as he bolted upright and was scurrying back to the shade (away from the heat, this burning, like fire ). A dark cloth fell over him and the sharp pain abruptly came to a stop. On his face, he could feel the sun burning into his skin like a phantom.He slowly came back to his sense and realized what had come to pass.  
The sunlight was off of him but the burn persisted. It would stay with him, he knew.  
Svlad wondered ‘Is this what dying is like?’ And in a sense, he was right. By all rights and purposes he was fully a member of the undead, his final scrap of humanity burned away by the sun’s light.  
He hoped his mother had mourned. If not before than at least now for what he had lost.  
The others in the building let out a cheer to accept their own, to accept the weak little boy who for all the world, just wanted to see his mother again. To feel warmth on his skin without fear of a truer death than this. He was still outside, the cloth left a single eye uncovered.  
He looked up to the tall brick building, he knew of the floors beneath making it even taller. Svlad saw this as a mountain that he hoped he could overcome but for now, it was time to mourn.  
Riggins held fim by the shoulder, almost fatherly, certainly possessive, and led Svlad inside.  
The cloth, Svlad soon found, was a cloak. The threshold of the building was passed in silence, Svlad still covered but the burn dying slowly.  
“It’s yours now! You’re dead!” came a shout from above the cloak, it’s owner unseen.  
They sounded young like him, that was comforting at the very least. A little sad. Correction: very sad.  
An innumerable amount of voices cheered and laughed and whooped for their newly dead.  
With a pale, shaking hand, Svlad reached up and lowered his shroud of a cloak that covered him.  
All around were fresh faces, very few he remembered from his time in the lower levels of the building. Even fewer he remembered clearly. Only one stood out with crisp detail but he turned his head away to take in the scene. Those sharp eyes stung as the bore into the back of his head.  
A messy banner hung from the grip of two vampires, each on opposing sides of the stairwell.  
“Welcome to The Shitshow” it read.  
Despite all his grief, Svlad managed a grin.  
Then a chuckle, then he was doubled over laughing, the shock and panic he felt remaining firm in his chest but masked by a thick layer of the ridiculous situation he was in. He couldn’t help but join in to the festivities of the party thrown for him. It was nice to see new faces and hear laughter that wasn’t mocking. After the day he had, this or a nap were the best options he’d get.

Scott Riggins stood off to the side, handed a glass by the second oldest subject, Martin.  
“You think he’ll live up to his name?” Martin asked with an inquisitive gaze cast over his glasses.  
Riggins glanced briefly to him, looking down into the deep red of his drink.  
“I can only hope.” He opted to say, softly and with such a somber tone like he never meant to do all this.  
Svlad’s name here, everyone knew, was Icarus. They knew what it meant, what Riggins was working towards, and why. They all stayed in hopes that Riggins could. Hoping that Svlad could. With the weight of this mountain on his shoulders, their whole world, Riggins considered renaming Svlad “Atlas”.  
Icarus had a nice ring to it. It stuck like the wax that held his failing wings together under the heat of the sun.  
Svlad had chosen a new name for himself as well. Being a complete and utter nerd, he chose a knife as his new name. It drew blood, just like him, so it made some vague amount of sense. As a new last name for his new family, new life, he chose “Gently”. It was how he wanted to be. It was his clinging to the humanity left in him. He called himself “Dirk Gently” after the 18th day. The words contrasted deeply in a balance always threatening to tip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> o fuck after this dirk stops daydreaming abt his past and we get back to real time events w/ todd


	4. keep it together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk's not quite sure how to take care of someone, much less himself. He's also glaringly unaware of the fact that losing 1 (one) pint of blood won't kill someone.

He paced frantically around the sleeping (dead?) body on the floor.  
The body surely wasn’t dead at the moment but Dirk had to be sure they’d survive through the night.  
Dirk didn't know how much blood he had taken, only that it was enough to knock a man out.  
‘Or was it the fear? The pain?’ He pondered as he walked in circles, practically boring a groove into the floor.  
He felt salt tears run down his face as it grew warm from the fresh blood. His veins were filled with crimson warmth and it felt like a hug. His skin regained an almost natural hue and his eyes..he knew what color they’d be. After he fed they returned to his old shade of blue. A lovely color like the blue sky he’d loved. Like those of the man that could be soon dead on the floor.  
Dirk listened for a heart beat in the silence of the room. His senses were further heightened than before and could pick up the sound with distance held between the two bodies. The thud in Todd’s chest was faster than his own. This wasn't saying much, considering Dirk's currently dead state.

Todd Brotzman, Dirk had found his name by reading his ID and rummaging around, was only asleep but so much could happen before sunrise. Todd could die if he was left alone.  
Dirk opted to stay and keep an eye on him, check his heartbeat, maybe make an apology breakfast.  
All of this was strictly out of the protocol that Blackwing held onto so dearly and this thought made Dirk less anxious at the thought of doing so.  
He’d be less like them. 

He wiped his face on his grimy sleeve and paused. The cuff was still rough and torn, made stiff from mud caking it.  
A quick look around and Dirk saw clothes scattered around and surely, surely, this..Todd wouldn’t mind if he borrowed some, would he?  
Dirk remembered how bad he must smell and decided he should clean up if he were to make a good first- second impression.  
He grabbed an old band shirt with an odd name on it (just like Todd’s, why did he have so many of this one) as well as a pair of jeans on his way to the bathroom. At least the two of them could match, that would be fun.

Once inside the threshold he once again froze, having realized something important.  
He’d left Todd on the floor, that was bad, unfriendly even. He couldn’t move Todd, was a bit too scared to touch him for fear that with his new found strength from such a meal he might hurt him.  
A pillow was swiftly tucked under Todd’s head and a blanket over him. He groaned, shifted slightly, but remained asleep.

Dirk passed by the mirror, double back, and paused. Unlike the ones (rarely) found in Blackwing, it had a different coating on the back. He saw his reflection clearly for the first time in about 3 years and it was about as bad, if not worse, than it was then. His hair was tangled and dark from his recent hygiene (or lack thereof), the veins around his eyes and cheeks were pronounced and dark. They ran like spider webs across him. The countless scars on his neck remained. It was unknown to him if turning scars ever healed (they didn’t), but they always managed to remind him of something dark and sullen. The divets across his collarbone and neck were memories. All bad ones.

He tore his eyes from his reflection and started the bath water running. It made his skin feel tight to be near so he waited for the tub to fill outside the door. He could hear it reach its capacity from out there so really there was no need to worry. The tense feeling in his gut came from the man across the room.

Dirk was taking a bath for the first time in too long. Running water always hurt to be around and touch, but still, warm water? It was as close to heaven as he would ever be.  
In the fresh water, turned almost grey from the dirt scrubbed off, he pondered what Todd was like when he wasn’t defending his home from an assumed drug user breaking in to attack him. He had a nice jawline and those eyes...they were stunning.  
How often did people break in? Todd had acted like he had a routine for just such an occasion. It was a little worrisome for Dirk and he was left to wonder, ‘What if someone else tried to break in that night?’ He’d have to defend the home and sleeping resident from the assailant.  
Dirk decided that he and Todd would be great friends after they blew past this little incident. They had so much in common! They both had blood, hands, blue eyes, no friends. Why, the list could go on and on.

The list of things he needed to do went on as well.  
It had been too long since Dirk had a genuine conversation with someone. He liked telling people about himself and what he was (the holistic part, not so keen on the vampirism), but the others at Blackwing weren’t around him much. They were alway busy hunting or fighting or..being tested. Victims never talked too long either and before tonight he’d always left before they could. He felt the bubble of hunch in his stomach but didn’t know what it meant, never knew until it came. It simply told him to stay here, in Todd’s home. Not what to do, not what to say.  
Dirk wished he had a script to follow. Blackwing gave everyone a role but he wasn’t there. He should be happy. All he felt was panic and the pull of the universe. Like a wire in his thoughts and joints it told him where to go.  
He sunk into the the water and waited till he felt like a person again. Blackwing no longer held the strings to his marionette limbs but the universe..he was stuck with it. The feeling of humanity never fully came but the water felt so nice. He napped for half an hour, dreaming of having friends again.

In the hours after his bath he passed time cleaning up the place. It took his mind off of Todd, his neck now patched up with some gauze and antiseptic. It had stopped bleeding shortly after Dirk bit him due to some clotting agent in vampire saliva (gross but handy).  
The clothes strewn about were put in a hamper, dirty dishes cleaned, so on, so forth.  
On the counter, vegetables and soup base sat wilting and oxidizing. The knife Todd had cut himself with still had a slight streak of blood on the blade.  
Dirk noticed the remains of a dinner in progress and realized that he must have interrupted Todd’s meal. The poor man must’ve had his blood stolen on an empty stomach. It was 4:30 in the morning, a few hours til sunrise. 

Dirk hoped and prayed that Todd would let him stay inside if he made him a nice breakfast and apologized.  
He hoped he could have a friend for once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next ch. we have todd waking up and eating soup.


	5. soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todd makes questionable choices: the saga.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i lied todd doesnt eat soup yet ajbksv

Todd woke up on his floor, cold and feeling ill. His head was pounding and he felt the delirium of sleepiness cloud his mind.  
An unfamiliar scent was in the air, like broth and lemon, and another presence in his home. He could smell the scent of his own shampoo but he hadn’t showered recently enough for the smell to be fresh.  
He remembered the blur of events the night before, his dinner preparations, a break in, and some excruciating pain. His neck ached in response to the thought telling him ‘Hey remember how much that hurt?’.  
He reached up in response to the memory and felt the surprising texture of gauze on his neck. The dull throb of the wound could still be felt and his fingers were eerily cold. He felt lightheaded and weak.

A noise came from out of Todds view.  
A clink of a plate, the stove turning off.   
He was facing the window with his navy blue blanket drawn tight around himself and felt himself curl up smaller as footsteps approached. He didn’t know what to do, doubted he could do much.  
“God, I hope he’s not dead, I tried to make a nice breakfast for him.”  
The voice of a man made Todd tense up.  
‘The one from last night?’ he wondered. ‘B-Breakfast? What the fuck?’   
He threw the blanket off of himself and bolted up with somewhat uncooperative knees. Blood rushed to his head and made his stance even shakier. He was going to be sick, he thought. ‘This is how I die.’  
The yelp the other man gave as the blanket was thrown was high, too high, and it made Todd’s skull ache.  
His apartment was cleaner than before, he noticed this offhandedly, almost not at all.

“Why’re you in my apartment?” He demanded, “Who are you?”  
The blanket slipped off of Dirk’s head unceremoniously and Todd recognized that face. It was the man who broke in. Todd had suspected so but not expected. Even he was a little taken aback. His mind was clouded by sleep and thoughts of what to do.  
Before he could yell and question further, Dirk bowed deeply, almost a full 90 degree angle, and exclaimed his apology. The fast movement startled Todd to say the very least.  
“Todd Brotzman, i’m very sorry to inconvenience you like this I didn’t mean to attack you, I swear! Well not..attack-attack just take some extra, a skim off the top.”   
Dirk spoke with a heavy english accent which some may assume was odd but, he was a strange man. It would be puzzling to most people how someone could sound so sincere on the subject of stealing another man’s blood and attacking him but, Dirk was little but sincere as well. A good mix of the two traits.

“Slow down. How do you..know my name?” Todd asked with trepidation clear in his tone. He wanted to ask what this man did to him. He was cooling down quickly from his startling awakening and seeing his intruder’s sincerity began to feel curious. Did he seriously use my shower? Why did he clean? Did he cook breakfast? I’m hungry. Is that a Mexican Funeral shirt? A fan? No they’re my clothes.   
Todd had many questions on his mind but this one came out the fastest. Upon his brief examination of the other man, he asked about his apparel.   
“Are those my clothes?”  
The sheer confusion he was feeling that morning was astounding to even himself, who felt like he never understood what was happening fully.  
“Ah-um you see.” Dirk sighed deeply and spoke slower. He had to find the right words if he wanted a friend.   
“I smelled your blood from when you cut your hand and I-” This was already going very badly.  
Todd rubbed his head to stave off the migraine that was already there. 

“Right, the vampire thing. Thanks for not killing me or..making me one I guess.”  
He would be quite a bit more freaked out about the whole ordeal but man, he was tired.   
In a stroke of his magnificent communication skill, he said “ Can I eat first? Like, can we sit down and talk?”

Dirk was taken by surprise by Todd’s resigned and calm attitude but after processing the statement, nodded furiously.  
“Y-y- yes of course! I didn’t know what you liked so I made some soup with what was around. I’ll get you a bowl!”  
Todd nodded languidly, in sharp contrast to the way his ‘guest’ had earlier, and sat at his counter.  
With his chin held up by his palm, he looked around the room with clearer vision than he had before.  
It was definitely cleaner, his laundry was in a basket and his bed was made, the counter was cleared and the sink emptied.  
Todd would be lying if he said he didn’t like his house without the layer of filth.

“What did you say your name was?’ He said in a clearer voice than before. His throat was still dry from sleep but his speech sounded more like words than a croak now.  
“It’s Dirk!” called out the man pouring a bowl of steaming soup from a pot carefully.  
That was a nice name, Todd thought. It made him think of detective novels and warm clothes. Also of silly string and flamingos for some inexplicable reason.  
The soup was placed in front of him delicately, the bowl clicking on the counter top.  
“There we are.” Dirk said pleasantly.  
Todd looked up at him, vaguely startled out of his thoughts by the sound and his proximity to the other man.   
Dirk heard his heartbeat skip and pick up. He felt panicked about the other’s health and immediately moved closer.  
‘Todd? Are you alright?”  
‘His eyes are so blue’ Todd was thinking at the close distance. They had glowed last night, pink like the watermelon colored lipstick Amanda wore to his concert’s years ago. Now though, they had changed to a familiar color. Something a little more human. His hair must smell like Todd’s shampoo by now. Todd’s clothes would smell like him.

“I’m fine.” He said. Despite the situation he was in, his noticeably warm cheeks, and the migraine pounding in his skull, he felt alright. Maybe it was some vampire mind control but he was calm.   
He didn’t know that Dirk was incapable of such a skill. He didn’t know he was just the slightest bit infatuated with him. It would be odd to think the man that had broken into your home hours before and drained a sizable amount of blood was attractive but Todd was into some freaky shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are moving to friday nights only after this one bc i am v lazy and tired


End file.
